


It's your professionalism I respect

by minkhollow



Category: Milliways, Team Fortress 2, Villains by Necessity - Eve Forward
Genre: Community: milliways_bar, Crossover, F/M, Gen, horribly self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkhollow/pseuds/minkhollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cata burns off a bad day and learns something interesting. Just another day at the awfully specific war zone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's your professionalism I respect

**Author's Note:**

> milliways_bar-related shenanigans, as the tags say. The RED Pyro's background is courtesy of Camwyn. One of these days we will thread at least part of this story, but until then, I wanted to write it.  
> I am not Eve Forward or Valve. I just borrow because I heart this relationship, twisted as it is.

Cata would deny that she’s grieving, if asked; students getting themselves killed on account of their stupidity is an occupational hazard of teaching at the Assassins’ Guild, after all. She knows that from her own student days.

But the latest casualty of Guild life was one of her favorite students. He could have done well for himself, if he hadn’t abandoned every pretense of subtlety (poisons were a strength of his; stealth, regrettably, was definitely not). And to round out the day, she has nothing but beginners’ papers to read through, and that will only add to her frustration.

Some days you just need to shoot things. She’d headed to Milliways with that very purpose in mind; she’s halfway through a quick lunch when she notices the bar has done her one better, and those red and blue doors to the Medic’s world are hanging about again. Once she’s done, she pauses only long enough to collect her rifle before taking the blue one.

It’s a relaxing afternoon, in its way. She treats it as she would any contract back in Bistort, even though the weaponry in play is vastly different. The technology in this world is such that she doesn’t have to worry about being hit quite so much; it’s faster than any mage, and more trustworthy, after her experience with Mizzamir.

After a couple of hours, she notices that the Medic’s got someone with one of those flamethrower things at his heels every time he has to go out in the open. For all this is a professional war zone, she can’t help feeling that sort of persistence is uncalled for - but if nothing else, it gives her an easy target for the rest of the afternoon.

***

The post-battle-hours cleanup is always the worst.

It would be easier if the Medic had made any headway whatsoever in persuading his coworkers that he may be good, but he can’t be in two places at once, and if that’s something they’d really like to see then they should take it up with the Engineer. Besides, when Milliways decides to interfere, it’s better to make sure the people who aren’t being paid for their trouble can go back in one piece, if only so none of them whine at him about it later. That would only defeat the purpose of going to the bar to get away from his coworkers whining at him.

He’s mostly through patching up the Scout when a limp RED uniform - Pyro, the bulk of the flameproof suit is unmistakable even from this distance - twitches. He spares a scowl, after a quick glance to make sure the Pyro in question can’t reach their flamethrower (just because business hours are over doesn’t mean one trusts one’s opponents to stick to them), finishes the Scout’s leg, and thinks nothing of it until he passes to see if there’s anything worth scavenging on the field.

The RED Pyro’s helmet was knocked off at some point during the afternoon - and the person inside the uniform isn’t someone he’d expected to see again.

Well, that explains a lot.

They spend a minute or so just looking at each other (he feels no compulsion whatsoever to heal the shoulder wound that seems to be keeping her down, not least because she has every reason to make things personal) before Cata - half changed back into her usual black, but still wearing enough blue to avoid being mistaken for a civilian - makes her way over, shouldering her rifle.

“I don’t know what brought those doors out today, but I am not complaining,” she says. Then she takes in the situation she’s walked into, and adds, “Do you two know each other?”

The Medic pushes his glasses up and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Cata,” he says, “this is my ex-wife.”

***

Elsa does not know what to make of this woman.

She doesn’t have a job title, for one thing; for another, after their introduction, all she had to say was, “So that’s why she kept hounding you. I did wonder.”

Elsa is no fool; the rifle is quite enough to tell her that this woman is likely the Sniper who kept foiling her revenge all afternoon. She learns a few other things from how Cata interacts with her ex-husband, and supposes she should have guessed. She’d caught him bedding a Sniper, after all; perhaps he has a type.

She says little until her ex-husband goes back to scouring the field for parts, and even then, it’s Cata who begins the conversation.

“You knew each other before these jobs, didn’t you?”

Elsa sighs. “Yes,” she says, seeing no reason to lie with this much of the truth already out. “How did you guess?”

“You have the same accent. German, was it?” Cata says ‘German’ as though she’s unfamiliar with the word, which strikes Elsa as ridiculous - but on the other hand, she can’t place Cata’s accent. “Besides, he’s never seemed to be the marrying sort.”

“He wasn’t,” Elsa says, not bothering to hide her scowl. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“Oh, I do. And he knows what he’s getting into with me.”

“Of course he does. You’re hardly his first Sniper--”

“Assassin,” Cata corrects; Elsa’s heard other Snipers use the term to describe themselves before, but never with this much force behind it. “And he’s well aware that if he wrongs me, he will live to regret it. That said, I can’t say I blame you for taking your quarrel here.”

“Can you not?”

“You’ve more sense about keeping things to business hours than some of your coworkers. Your Soldier friend’s very lucky to still have his testicles.” Cata smiles a bit, half dangerous predator and half someone recalling a lovely holiday; if it were a story about anyone else, Elsa might be tempted to ask for more details. “And really, this is quite a sensible way to go about exacting your revenge. But if I see you chasing after him on the field, I’m going to keep firing at you. Nothing personal, you understand.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“And I place a certain professional pride in meaning it.” Cata smiles again and walks off; Elsa lets her head fall back with a sigh, and catches sight of her own team’s Medic finally headed her way.

Perhaps after the interlopers on their side today, she should have expected something like that. But it’s still made for a much stranger afternoon than she would have cared for; she’s glad to see the back of it.


End file.
